The Fall of Veii- Part 2

by Francis Mulhern

  “Hold the line” he called to the faces around him. “The Romans cannot force us back and we have strength in numbers, we will win. Hold the line” he called loudly as worried faces twisted back to the fight in front of them. Sentillius moved his horse to the left slightly so that he could see above a sudden swirl of dust. The Romans had gained another yard in the centre, but still the men held as well as they could. Hold he thought, hold and we will win.

  Marcus felt his fingers gripping the reins tightly, his eyes switching across the scene and his breathing shallow and rapid. The noise level had risen and the centre was a cacophony of screams, yells, curses and grunts. He wished he was there, fighting with his men, but he knew that these all-out battles required one leader, one man who could orchestrate the troops, and that man was him. He licked his lips as he felt his throat tighten at the thought. He glanced to the sky, almost wishing to see a sign, an eagle, but none came. The centre of the line had been halted by the Etruscans again, as he had expected, it was now up to the tactics he had drilled into Narcius and his Eagles to win the fight by destroying the rearguard of Etruscans that was marching at his men. He knew that his new maniples, the Gaulish style he had seen all those years ago, were lethal in such conditions, but he also knew that if the gods were against him they would be cut down in their hundreds and the battle lost. Had he been made Dictator too soon? Was he really able to control all of the might of Rome? He swallowed hard at the thought, involuntarily clutching the Eagle around his neck as he stared into the dust and death ahead of him.

  ****

  Narcius called to his men as they ran across the ground, seven men closing ranks with him as other groups began to cluster together, the phalanx snarling at them as they approached. “Quickly and steadily” he shouted, the order repeated by the officers and maniple leaders as they jogged across the ground. He gritted his teeth, feeling the rush of air through them as his legs beat a steady pace. “Come on lads, this will be like plucking chickens, one feather at a time” he laughed as nervous eyes laughed back at him. He hefted his shield a little as he felt the man to his right step closer and press against him “Walk” he ordered as the first spear of the phalanx clattered into the shield of the man ahead of him, the spear slicing down and aiming for his shins as was often the first strike. The legionary crashed his foot onto the wood and pushed aside another long spear thrust to disable two attacks as Narcius grinned at the perfect training and stepped into the small gap with his sharp, short, sword and punched the blade into the arm of the spear holder, the only thing he could reach at this distance. The Etruscan screamed and the spear fell, his fellow soldiers pushing forwards at the attack as the man lowered his shield momentarily and Narcius whipped his sword back into the space and landed a slice across the man’s face, the eyeball bursting into a red spray as he quickly retreated, the seven men around him leaning backwards in a tight ball as they cheered at the attack. Instantly the closest four spears thrust at them, all missing and causing the phalanx to stumble as the small group twisted to the sudden speed of movement of the small band of Romans. Along the line the same thing was happening. Narcius grinned as he saw Etruscans fall in unison as Roman groups stepped in and out, their tactics playing havoc with the formal lines of Etruscans who tried in vain to wheel against the smaller groups. To his right the bulk of his attack were attempting to get behind the phalanx as they were ordered and Narcius snatched a look to the main battle some two hundred yards ahead and to his right, exactly as Camillus had said, there were no horse coming to the defence, Scipio must have decimated them, he grinned and yelled “For Rome” the new energy coursing through his body as his men screamed with him and rushed at the phalanx in their tight unit.

  ****

  Sentillius cursed again. A look behind showed him that the phalanx he expected to defeat the Romans was stalling, the scum seemed to be split into smaller attack groups and surrounding his men. Damn. He looked urgently to his left and waved to the Eques who were milling around on their horses unsure what to do. He lifted his spear and pointed towards the fight behind him, his eyes almost begging the officer to understand what he meant. As he waved the spear he heard another scream and the drumbeat of hooves as the left flank of the Roman heavy Eques, their leaders screaming, charged at his own men. Horses reared as the attack came, but the officers kicked their men into a stumbling charge. As he smiled, taking his eyes off that contest he saw the sky darken in front of him and he blinked, almost flinching at the sudden movement.

  Marcus saw the Etruscan leader wave his spear to the horses on the flank and called his trumpeter to sound advance for his own to counter the relief force which might destroy the attack by Narcius. He swallowed hard again, this was a gamble. If the leader of the Etruscan cavalry turned to attack Narcius, even though it was a long way across the back of his own troops, then the Roman horses would be into them on the right. What would the leader do? Stay and protect the wing or turn and ride to their rear? He hoped they would stand and fight and he watched with bated breath as the spear waving leader screamed as the Roman cavalry charged away to the right and headed straight for the Etruscans. Marcus took a deep breath the moment the Etruscans turned and he waved his red cloak in the air to the line of Centurions at the rear of the thousands of Romans lined across the battlefield in front of him.

  The officers in the centre of the line all raised one arm and started to scream orders as Marcus’ own rear guard of six hundred older men, all wealthier Triarii soldiers raced forwards with two of the javelins each and stepped behind their own pushing lines of soldiers. Marcus held his breath as the action happened, his last line of defence suddenly leaving all their long spears and rushing forwards shieldless.

  Within a few moments the Centurions called the men into lines and the javelins were hefted into the air over their own soldiers, all of whom screamed more loudly at the sudden darkness that came over them as hundreds of iron-tipped spears crashed into the rear lines of the Etruscans who had no idea what hit them. The call for the second spear had already come as the first Etruscans panicked and raised their shields, releasing their press on the men in front of them in their efforts to catch the hail of death that was raining down on them.

  The Triarii turned and raced back to their spears, turning with cheers as they lined up and started to march back at the Etruscans.

  Marcus’ eyes grew wide as the javelins smacked into the mass of men in the centre of the Etruscan line, the three back lines of the phalanxes buckling as the Roman line pushed harder as soon as the dark hail of javelins had appeared above them. A deep groan came from the Etruscans as the Romans stepped forwards three then four paces, the men at the sides of the advance slicing into the panicking Etruscan men around them. It was now or never Marcus thought as he licked his lips and glanced back up to Narcius, his men still harrying the solid mass of soldiers, thinning down the disorganised phalanx as he watched. Marcus raised his eyes to the heavens and thanked the gods for looking after him and his destiny.

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  Chapter 20

  “Accept the surrender” Marcus said as he stepped into the city “but take every man, woman and child and bind them” he added as he clutched the sword he had been wielding in the final attack at the gates and slammed it into its scabbard. “Kill anyone who bears a sword against us” he shouted as the men ran screaming into the town, some already slicing into Etruscans who were too slow to defend themselves against the onslaught of the Romans.

  He scanned the walls behind him, dead lying across the ramparts and on the floor. He winced at the fresh cut on his arm, a lucky blow as two men had come at him at once, the second attacker had caught him as he thrust at the first. The cut wasn’t deep or long, but it would be a fine scar to show his son when he returned to Rome.

  He moved into the centre of the square which led to the gates and scanned the scene. Men, women and children were being herded from houses, their wails and pleading
rising as soldiers manhandled them into separate groups. Ignoring them he turned, “Messenger” he called as a man stepped over to him from the knot of officers and men behind him. He held out his hand for a tablet to write on and spoke as he wrote.

  “Three messages, copy and send” he said as the officers stepped closer to listen. “One to Potitus at Veii. This will tell him of our great victory here” he said as he moved the stylus across the wax. “You must tell him” he looked into the eyes of the messenger “that he is to allow a small group of escaped men from here to enter the city of Veii. They must tell of our victory and how easily we have destroyed their allies” he grinned as the man nodded. He looked to the right as another messenger stepped forwards. “Go” he commanded to the first “but take three men with you, I don’t want to lose this message to the enemy if you are caught by their fleeing lines” he added sharply. “Here” he said, holding out his hand as a scream came from a woman who was parted from her two children, the crying of mother and babes renting the air as Marcus shook his head. The messenger handed him a tablet. After a moment he looked up at the officers, Caelio looking at him with a blood spattered face, many of the others clean except for the dust on their clothes. “Rome” he said “for the Senate proclaiming our great victory and imminent march on Veii” he breathed out as he thought for a second, leaning the tablet back on his forearm to write additional lines. “return to Veii with any reply, we will meet your there” he said as the man saluted and turned, calling for two more men to join him as he rushed towards the horses.

  The square was rapidly filling with screaming children and crying women, the older men defiantly cursing the Romans but receiving back handed swiped for their protestations. “Clear this lot outside” Marcus said as he looked around at the confusion. “I want this square clear and a command area set up here” he pointed to a well near the centre of the square and then turned back to the officers, scanning their faces.

  “Caelio. Your men were magnificent” he said as the man stood stiffly to attention. “But I need them to search the city and the Etruscan camp and bring all the spoils here to the square, pile everything against that building” he said pointing to the wall of a three storey wooden townhouse which lay across the edge of the pavemented square casting a long shadow. Caelio saluted and turned, his shoulders sagging from tiredness as he left. “I want all the officers here in one hour” he called as he walked to the well and peered into its depths “we must complete the ceremony to thank the gods for our victory before we leave for Veii” he said coldly as he looked back across the square.

  ****

  The hour passed with more skirmishes from within the walls of the city as families tried to defend themselves against the Romans as they went systematically through the houses within its walls, the dead filling the streets as crows dived onto unattended bodies to feast on soft entrails. Marcus had set out a couple of tables with a string of seats around them in the square and was receiving reports and sending messages as the final officer arrived at the briefing, his weary eyes telling of the death and destruction he had seen.

  The officers waited as Marcus sent a messenger back out of the walls with another set of orders. He sighed and blew a long breath from puffed cheeks as he raised his eyebrows at the assembled men, their faces visibly relaxing at the show of exhaustion and relief on their Dictator’s face.

  “Gentleman” he said with a broad smile. “Half of our job is complete.” He moved a goblet away from his hand and clenched his fist. “Veii awaits” he said as he looked up at the men and set his jaw. “The gods have spoken and shown their favour. If we stay here too long they will turn their attention elsewhere” he said with certainty as many heads nodded, all the men understanding his meaning. He looked to his right and nodded to the Optio who stiffened his back and started to read through a long list of lost men, some four hundred men had been killed or injured, the Etruscans losing countless thousands and their army smashed and fleeing across the countryside. As the words came to his ears Marcus put on his stoic face knowing that it could so easily have been his enemies sitting here recounting his dead. The Roman loss was minimal and he knew it would be seen as a great portent for Rome amongst all of the tribes of Italy, he silently thanked the goddess Juno for her support and made a mental note of the debts he owed her when the temple was completed back in Rome.

  As the Optio finished Marcus nodded his thanks and stood to look at the soldiers around him. “A marvellous victory” he said with warmth in his eyes. “You all played your part exactly as ordered and I cannot praise you highly enough. That” he pointed to an enormous pile of gold, pottery, jars of oil, cloth, grain, spears and crates of bronze that was stacked against the side of the houses along the square “is your reward. Riches for you and your men. Riches for the treasury of Rome and glory for our gods” he said with passion. The men licked their lips at the treasures, some eying particular items they wished to gain for themselves. “And at Veii is a thousand times this treasure. A thousand times the glory and a thousand times the riches” he added as he saw the greed in many of the soldiers faces around him. “Within three hours I want the city stripped of everything of value it holds. The captured will be sold as slaves and the money placed in the treasury in Rome. These spoils will be split into the tribes you command, with one tenth delivered to Rome for the temples. Prepare your men, gentlemen, we march to Veii as soon as we are prepared and the slaves are sent to Rome.”

  ****

  The shouts grew, a great clamour of voices ringing through the air as Apuleius woke from his afternoon slumber, his eyes quickly adjusting to the light. He ruffled his hair and then straightened it before he stepped into the atrium and called to his door slave “What’s happening Jixtur?” The slave bowed and spoke softly. “The word is that the army at Napete has beaten the Etruscans and as we speak they are now marching on Veii to ever greater glory” he smiled placidly, his tone measured and his eyes looking to the floor.

  Apuleius turned on his heel and quickly strode to his bed chamber grabbing his toga and calling for his chamber slave to hurry up so that he could be one of the first men of rank to be at the forum when the Senate appeared to speak of the great victory.

  So Camillus has won, he thought as he lifted his arms and the heavy cloth was draped across his body. He will certainly be the topic of conversation and now would be a good time to sow some seeds of doubt, small morsel which would help his cause later when the man inevitably made some mistake or other. His mouth curled at the edges as he thought about his options. Camillus embodied the patricians and all they stood for. His so-called prophecy and the love the gods had for him being yet another story conjured up the leading classes to hold men like himself in place, to keep them as the underclass. He scowled at the thought.

  Leaving the house with a thick set ex-soldier named Macius he set off for the forum at a fast pace, Macius pushing some of the crowds out of his pay-masters path as they dropped down the steep slope to the east of the forum. Macius was broad shouldered but not much more than average height and Apuleius could see over his head as they approached the thronging mass of the forum, the people rushing into the space from every side street. Damn he said to himself, how had so many people heard the news before him? He resolved to pay for better spies and informants so that he could be one of the first to know of any news from Veii. As Macius pushed his way through the forum people pushed back angrily. Apuleius was barged from left and right and despite the burly ex-soldier in front of him he was making little headway into the crowded forum. Ahead on the steps to the Comitium he saw Decius and two other plebeian leaders, all looking serene, as if they had been there for hours. He cursed as a man jostled him, the smell of sweat hitting his nostrils. Macius had almost come to a standstill, his angry shouts disappearing amongst the ear-splitting noise around them as people barged and pushed to get closer to the front. Apuleius gripped Macius’ shoulder and nodded to the row of shops on their right, his message clear. Both men pushed aw
ay to the walls and then headed along the shop front towards the Comitium. As he arrived at the place where his plebeian colleagues were standing he was just in time to hear Cicurinus call to the crowd for silence as Senator Ahala stepped forwards with a scroll in his hands.

  People hushed and called for silence as heads stretched to peer at the toga clad elite standing at the head of the forum, the senate leaders dressed immaculately and all wearing the broad smiles that told of good news and victory. As they pushed forwards into the backs of the crowd he missed the first words of Ahala’s speech, the crowd hushing those closest to them who were intent on chatting about the weather or the poor sanitation in the streets.

  “...will bring glory to our City and to our greatest gods” the words came to his ears as Apuleius reached the end of the shops and was within a few yards of the plebeian leaders who had gathered as close to the patricians as they could. Nodding to the men who glanced at him he stifled his anger and set his eyes on the white clothed men as they stood and waved a series of votive candles in the air and took oils and other instruments for the auspices before nodding to each other and then turning back to the crowd. Every head was silent, the sea of faces staring intently at the leaders of Rome.